


spaces between us

by heklin



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Past Suicide Attempt, Sibling Bonding, connor and zoe are twins!, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:45:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heklin/pseuds/heklin
Summary: The Murphy twins are seventeen when their parents decide that they need some fresh air and ship them off to Cedarwood Springs for the summer.(previously titled "cedarwood springs")





	1. the house

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching gravity falls when I came up with this idea so you could say that it's loosely inspired by that
> 
> there's going to be some zoe/alana and connor/evan but this is first and foremost gonna be a fic about the murphy siblings, and them fixing their relationship. so yeah!
> 
> also! I'm not a huge fan of fics with ocs in them, so owen is just a minor character and in future chapters I'm gonna try to keep him in the background as much as I can
> 
> no warnings for this chapter

Zoe taps her pen against the cover of her notebook, staring out the window sullenly. Next to her, Connor is repeatedly kicking the back of their mom’s seat.

“Are you fucking five years old?” Zoe explodes, at the same time their mom says, “Connor, please stop.”

“You know I don’t like that kind of language,” their dad sighs.

Connor delivers another swift kick to the back of the seat and flips Zoe off with a shit-eating grin.

Zoe grits her teeth, shuts the notebook, and stuffs it and the pen into her backpack. It’s not like she’s actually getting anything done, and anyways, her handwriting looks too shaky.

The road they’re on isn’t even a real road anymore. It’s just dirt and gravel in the vague shape of a path. There are woods on either side, and Zoe has to admit, it’s kind of pretty. She definitely doesn’t believe that being out here is going to cure her and Connor (or whatever the fuck their parents _think_ it’ll do), but she’s always loved nature, so maybe it won’t be _that_ bad.

It’s only a few months. She can take the time to explore everything. She read online that Cedarwood Springs has a lot of hiking trails.

Connor groans loudly all of a sudden, glaring out his window. Zoe glances over—they’re passing by the sign that says “Welcome to Cedarwood Springs - Where weird meets wonderful!”

“The fuck does that even mean?” Connor mutters.

“Connor,” warns their dad.

“What?” Connor shoots back scathingly. “What are you gonna do? Ground me? Ship me off to the middle of _fucking_ nowhere? Oh wait, you’re already doing that.”

Their dad exhales sharply, but doesn’t respond. Zoe kind of wants to punch him in the face and she’s not entirely sure why.

Their mom finally looks up from her phone. “No service,” she announces mildly.

“Again?” their dad asks.

“Why are you surprised,” Zoe says, annoyed. “I bet the whole town doesn’t even know what wifi is.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” their mom says with a laugh—but she doesn’t sound all that sure.

Connor kicks the back of her seat yet again.

The rest of the car ride is spent in tension-filled silence, until their dad finally pulls up in front of a large blue house and parks crookedly. The light of the sun reflects off of the many windows, casting a soft sort of glow over the lawn. “Here we are,” he says, voice strained with forced cheerfulness.

Zoe is the first out of the car, swinging her backpack over her shoulders, and then she heads around to the trunk to take out her other bags. Connor stands next to her with a scowl on his face, staring at the house like it’s personally wronged him. _Such a brat._ She shoves his duffle and messenger bag into his arms without a word and then turns and makes her way across the lawn.

Up close, the house is a little bit of a mess. The paint job is peeling and faded. The shutters are crooked, there are vines crawling up the porch railing, and the bushes are overgrown, clearly not very well-kept.

Connor rings the doorbell four times in a row, impatient—and their mom frowns at him for it—before the door swings open and there’s Owen, immediately pulling their mom into a hug.

Owen is young for an uncle, so growing up, Zoe and Connor always just called him by his first name. But he looks much, much older than the last time they saw him. His hair is graying now—even his stubble.

“God, it’s so good to see you guys!” He says, grinning wide. Zoe’s glad that he doesn’t try to hug her or Connor. “The last time I visited, you were—wow. I think you still had braces.”

He’s addressing Connor, who sort of just shrugs and looks down at his feet, arms crossed.

“Well, uh,” their dad says after a beat of awkward silence. “Why don’t you show us around?”

“Of course, yeah, of course,” Owen says hastily, and then shoulders the door open all the way.

Zoe and Connor hesitate before following their parents in, sharing the briefest of looks when their mom exclaims, “Oh, wow, this is...really something!”

And, well, she’s not wrong. The inside of the house reflects the outside. The first thing Zoe notices upon walking in is that the floor panels are pulling up in the entryway. The second thing that hits her is the _smell—_ it's damp and musty, the kind of smell generally associated with old houses. Except Owen has been living here for almost eight years, if Zoe remembers correctly, so you’d think that it would smell...nicer by now. More lived-in.

A quick glance over at Connor shows that he’s wrinkling his nose too, and Zoe almost laughs or nudges him and says _I know right?_ before she remembers—well, everything.

It’s way too early into this trip to get pissed about her relationship with Connor, and also kind of ridiculous, because for one, she promised herself she _wouldn’t_ dwell on it. Not after what happened. Not after what he did.

And two, things have been Not Good between them for a long time. Which means it doesn’t make sense to start caring now, since nothing is going to change anyway.

Zoe shakes herself out of her thoughts, adjusts her backpack, and looks around at the rest of the house. There’s a round skylight directly overhead, and their mom makes a comment about how nice it is and “it’s really good to let in some natural light, you know? Keeps things from looking too gloomy!”

“Yeah, well, there are a lot of windows throughout the whole house,” Owen says, laughing awkwardly. “Plus we get a lot of sun out here, so!”

“That’s great,” their dad says. “The kids could use some sun. Especially Connor—he’s so pale.”

“What I could _really_ use is some fucking therapy,” Connor says, speaking up for the first time since they arrived. “Or maybe antidepressants.”

Owen’s smile falters, and he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then their dad is asking, “So, uh, how many rooms are there again?” and then they’re moving on as if nothing happened.

Zoe wonders how long they can avoid the subject for. Their parents will stick their heads in the ground and try to pretend they're the perfect happy family for as long as they possibly can, but Owen was obviously told everything, and in the three-ish months that she and Connor are going to be here, it’s bound to get brought up again. Most likely soon, and by Connor himself, judging by the little outburst he just had not even five minutes into their visit.

Zoe follows upstairs. She tries to listen as Owen tells them about the history of the house, but she gets distracted taking everything in. There’s a lot to look at, from the old photos on the walls and shelves to the strange little details in the yellowing wallpaper (along the staircase, it’s patterned with the same repeating image of a bunch of birds in a basket—but it changes a lot in other parts of the house, as if the people who first built this place kept running out of wallpaper) to the various different taxidermied animals everywhere. There’s a moose head mounted to a wall, and a deer head on another. Not to mention the huge, very lifelike stuffed birds just sitting on a table outside of Owen’s room.

The whole house is kind of sad and creepy and weird, but. Zoe likes it.

“So you two are gonna be—” Owen turns around at the base of the second flight of stairs and cuts himself off, brow furrowed. “Where’d Connor go?”

Zoe shrugs one shoulder. “Probably went back downstairs?” She’s trying really hard not to sound annoyed, because it’s not like it’s _Owen’s_ fault that Connor is an asshole.

“Okay, well. You two will be in,” Owen leads the rest of the way up, “the attic. Sorry about that, by the way, um. There’s only one guest room, and it has a bit of a mold problem...”

The attic has slanted ceilings and two twin beds. There’s a fading, multicolored rug on the floor, and a small desk next to the bed on the left. (Zoe mentally calls dibs on the left side of the room.) There’s also a window, to their mom’s delight, and a wilting plant in the corner.

Owen is still talking. “Is it okay? I mean, if it’s too cramped then one of you is absolutely welcome to take my room, and I could sleep in the living room.”

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to do that,” Zoe tells him, at the same time that her mom says, “Oh, don’t be silly. They’ll be more than fine in here." A pause, then, "You two haven’t shared a room since you were five, remember Zo?”

“Yeah.” She and Connor wanted to keep sharing a room even after they moved in the first grade to a bigger house, where they could each have their own room—but their mom laughed it off and told them no. So from then on Zoe and Connor lived with a wall dividing them, and as the years went on and they got older and angrier, it started to feel more like there were _miles_ between them.

Zoe sets her stuff down on the bed that she’s claimed as hers, and then they all head back downstairs to say goodbyes. Connor comes slinking out of the kitchen, messenger bag still slung over his shoulder. Owen insists that their parents stay for dinner—”and maybe afterwards I could show you around town!”—but their dad cuts him off and says they really better be going now if they want to make it back home before dark.

Connor is the first to get hugged by their mom, _of course,_ and he just stands there with his arms pinned to his sides, looking embarrassed and annoyed. After she finally pulls away, she takes a few seconds to fuss over him, and brushes his hair away from his face and says, “Be good, okay?”

He still seems pissed off, but to his credit, he doesn’t reply with a sarcastic or biting comment. Instead, he just huffs and nods slightly, not meeting her eye.

Their mom smiles and then pulls Zoe in, squeezing her tight, while their dad lingers by the door, and when she lets go and makes her way to him, he raises his hand in an awkward wave. (He’s not exactly the hugging type.) “Love you,” he says to both of them.

“Take care of each other,” their mom says, and he opens the door. And then they’re watching and waving alongside Owen as their parents get into the car and drive away, down that dirt road.

_Take care of each other._ A nice sentiment, but Zoe knows exactly what it means. It was directed at her. _Take care of your brother_ is what their mom really wanted to say, and it’s what she would have said, had Connor not been right there.

Because after all, that’s Zoe’s job, isn’t it? That’s why she’s being forced to be here—to  _look after_ Connor.

“So,” Owen says, clapping his hands together. “I think I’m gonna start making dinner. You guys are welcome to go out and explore if you want. Unless you’re tired, I know it was a really long drive, but—”

Zoe’s out the door before he even finishes his sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! please leave kudos and comment because comments genuinely make my day and also make me much more likely to write more and post sooner lol
> 
> follow me on tumblr @jaredklein


	2. the gift shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: mention of suicide attempt (overdose)

After Zoe’s gone, Connor goes upstairs to check out the attic and the rest of the second floor. (This house is creepy. The floorboards creak, the banister is wobbly, and there are dead animals fucking _everywhere._ It’s a wonder their extremely vegan mom managed to keep her mouth shut about those during the house tour, because even Connor wanted to be like _hey, uh, what the fuck?_ ) Then he stands in the doorway to the kitchen and watches while Owen gathers stuff from the fridge and cupboards for dinner.

Owen has long hair, like he’s always had. He’s actually one of the reasons Connor started growing out his own hair. Connor distinctly remembers being twelve or thirteen and seeing a picture of Owen on Facebook and thinking, _I want my hair to look like that. I want to look like that._ And Owen was the Cool Uncle, so it didn’t seem weird at the time to be idolizing him like that, or whatever.

Anyways, Owen still has long hair, but it’s swept back in a messy bun now. Maybe because he thinks it’ll make the gray hairs less noticeable. (It doesn’t.)

“So,” Owen says, glancing up from the vegetables he’s chopping. “You’ve, uh. You’re _tall_ now.”

Connor bristles at that. “Did you expect me to still be the size of a ten-year-old?”

“Well, I definitely didn’t expect...” Owen waves a hand in his general direction, nodding. “This. You’re probably taller than me!”

Connor crosses his arms and shrugs. Hunches in on himself.

“How’s school?” is Owen’s next question.

“It’s summer,” Connor replies shortly.

“Right.” Owen scrapes vegetable peels into the trash. “Sorry,” he says after a few seconds. “I’m not very good at small talk.”

Connor just shrugs again. “Me either,” he says, because Owen is awkward and Connor kind of feels bad for acting like an angsty teenager. Even though that’s...what he is.

“Listen, about when—what you—” Owen fumbles, almost dropping the vegetable peeler, and ugh, fuck. Connor knows exactly what’s coming next. “Your attempt?”

“Yeah, uh. I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I understand,” Owen says, nodding. “I just want to let you know that I’m—I know what you’re going through and I’m here, if you ever do want to talk. I _know_ that probably sounds cheesy and ‘lame’—” he does finger quotes, laughing awkwardly “—to you, but. Seriously, okay?”

“Yeah, great,” Connor gets out. “You know, I think I’m gonna go outside and—look around.” And then he’s leaving the kitchen. Honestly, he probably should have left long before Owen started up a conversation.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the sentiment. It’s just that his skin was starting to get all prickly and uncomfortable and if he stayed to talk about it, he probably would have ended up yelling or breaking something. And while he wouldn’t have cared about the consequences to his actions back at home, this isn’t home, and he’s trying to be better, okay?

If he has to spend the summer here, he might as well give it his best shot.

“Be back by, um, nine,” Owen calls after him, stammering a little. “And if you find Zoe, tell her too!”

 _As if,_ Connor thinks as he walks out the door. Zoe’s beyond pissed at him. It’s better for everyone if he just doesn’t talk to her unless he absolutely has to.

Connor hadn’t been _trying_ to kill himself.

He wanted to die, and then the opportunity just sort of presented itself (in the form of his mom’s shiny new prescription sleeping pills), so he made an impulse decision and the next thing he knew he was in the ER with a sore throat and a headache the size of the sun, getting spoon fed activated charcoal.

And no one wanted to hear what he had to say about it.

Connor wanders through town and ends up outside of a gift shop—which he’d think was a house, if it weren’t for the sign attached to the roof that says  _GIFT SHOP._ He opens the door and steps inside hesitantly, mouth quirking upwards when John Darnielle’s lilting voice reaches his ears.

This place is so fucking weird.

Connor takes a look around. The store is small, but the shelves are packed—mainly with touristy things, like T-shirts and keychains and snowglobes. Connor picks up one of those and shakes it. Inside, there are tiny plastic mountains and trees, and a rainbow in the background, and the glitter that floats down is like, holographic. It’s kind of cool.

He makes his way through the rest of the store, following the sound of The Mountain Goats to the front, where there’s a guy sitting slumped over at the counter, in front of the cash register. He has his head pillowed in his arms, and he’s fast asleep. He seems like he’s probably around the same age as Connor. Connor leans on his tiptoes to peer behind the counter and sees that the source of the music is a giant radio at the guy’s feet.

Just to be obnoxious, Connor reaches for the bell on the counter and taps it several times in quick succession.

The guy jerks and falls out of his chair, his arms flailing and effectively knocking the bell off the counter. “Shit, sorry, sorry, oh my god.”

Connor stoops down to pick up the bell, and puts it back with a snort. “Uh, hi.”

The guy scrubs at his face, eyes wide and cheeks tinted pink, and says in a rush, “Welcome to Cedarwood Springs Gift Shop my name is Evan how can I help you?”

Connor suddenly doesn’t know why he rang the bell in the first place. It’s not like he’s actually going to buy anything. It’s not like he has a question about snow globes or some shit. He should just leave.

“I like this band,” he says instead, gesturing towards the radio.

Evan gives him a confused sort of smile, brows furrowed. “Me too.”

“I mean, I figured,” Connor says before he can stop himself. “Since you’re. Playing it.”

Evan’s smile falters. Connor’s only been here a few minutes and he’s already fucking things up somehow.

He really hates himself.

“What’s your favorite?” he asks quickly, in an attempt to make things better.

“Favorite—band?”

“Song. By The Mountain Goats.”

“Oh, um...gosh, there’s so many. I guess _This Year_? But I also really love _Up The Wolves,_ and _Heel Turn 2._ You, uh—what about you?”

“Shit, those are good ones. But probably _Damn These Vampires,_ or _Dance Music._ ”

Evan has a lot of freckles, mostly concentrated on the bridge of his nose. He talks really fast and makes big gestures with his hands. They talk for a couple more minutes about bands they like until Connor decides things are probably going to get awkward again soon, and says, “Uh, I should probably get going.”

Evan nods and smiles, tapping his fingers against the counter. “Nice, um, talking to you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Connor calls as he heads out the door.

Dinner is pasta with chicken and vegetables, and...it’s actually really good. After almost three years of eating his mom’s non-GMO, gluten-free, meat-free, bland-ass cooking, Connor thinks he might be in heaven.

“Holy fuck,” Connor says after his first bite, at the same time that Zoe says, “This is amazing?”

Zoe sort of glares at him. Connor glares back and shoves another forkful of pasta in his mouth. Owen, oblivious to this, grins wide. “I’m glad you like it.”

A few minutes of silence as they all continue to eat. Connor watches Zoe out of the corner of his eye as she picks out all the vegetables and pieces of chicken out of her pasta and eats those first, leaving the noodles for last. Something in his chest expands when he notices this, and then it shrinks. It feels huge and nostalgic, and then small and uncomfortable and pathetic.

They finish their meal. Zoe starts cleaning up the table, and Connor would help, but he doesn’t want to risk bumping shoulders with her in the kitchen. So instead he slinks up to the attic and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling, until Zoe comes in and turns off the light without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs mentioned are just songs I was listening to while writing this chapter, but they Are some of my favorites by tmg!!
> 
> thanks for reading and please leave kudos and comments to keep this thing going :^) next chapter zoe meets alana


	3. the dirt road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (changed the title to lyrics from "spaces" by 1d)
> 
> back to zoe's pov! this chapter takes place after chapter one, (before dinner, when she walks out of the house). sorry if that's confusing, I'll probably try to keep it chronological in the future
> 
> trigger warnings for: description of connor's past suicide attempt, mentions of and thoughts about death. it's kind of heavy at the beginning. if u need a more detailed tw/summary, let me know and I will provide one, no questions asked

Zoe was the one who found Connor in the bathroom that day.

The light was on inside but the door was unlocked, and when she knocked, there was no answer. So she went in, reaching for her toothbrush so that she could brush her teeth before bed—and her gaze fell on him. He was sitting with his back against the tub, arms wrapped loosely around his middle. His eyes were closed.

The empty yellow prescription bottle was placed neatly on the counter.

There were no pills scattered across the floor. There was no commotion or mess.

Zoe knelt on the floor next to him and dialed 911 with surprisingly steady hands. She brushed his hair out of his face, took a deep breath, and screamed for their mom.

He had been so, so still.

Now, she can’t think about it without her throat threatening to close up. She remembers that she and her mom got in the back of the ambulance with him. She saw the paramedics perform CPR and she felt so helpless but also so unbelievably _empty._ Hollow. It was like watching a stranger almost die in front of her.

Her mom couldn’t stop crying, saying, pleading, _my baby, Connor, sunshine, why would you do this baby?_  Zoe shed just a couple of tears—only after the thought crossed her mind that she wouldn’t be a twin anymore if Connor died.

The worst was the waiting. Sitting in the hospital waiting room, the only thing to do was let her mind wander, which meant it wasn’t long before she started thinking that if Connor _did_ die, maybe things wouldn’t even be that bad. If he hated living and hated their family so much, maybe this was for the better, right? When she pictured life without him, she felt _relieved._

She hated those long hours spent in the waiting room, and she hated the things she learned about herself while she was there.

This is all the shit that’s going through her head as she walks around town. She feels a little childish for storming out, but like. Connor pulls that sort of thing all the time, so it’s whatever.

Or maybe that why she feels bad about it—because she doesn’t want to be like him.

She decides that she’ll try to make nice with Owen when she gets back to the house.

Cedarwood Springs is mostly woods and winding road, with houses tucked away in the occasional clearing. One of said houses turns out to be a gift shop. Zoe debates going in, but ultimately chooses to keep walking. Yards ahead, someone is riding their bike down the path.

“Hey,” Zoe calls. They don’t stop or appear to have heard her, so she jogs until she catches up to them. Probably at the sound of her footfalls, the biker, a girl with pink glasses, turns her head to look.

“Hi,” she says, slowing down. Her smile is radiant.

“Hi. I’m Zoe,” Zoe blurts out. It’s like her brain goes, _cute girl!!!!_ and then short-circuits. Fuck. “I’m new in town, I’m staying with my uncle for the summer?”

The girl hops off of her bike, keeping her hands on the handlebars so she can walk it along. “I’m Alana,” she says, and then she enthusiastically extends a hand towards Zoe. Zoe smiles and shakes it, even though it’s kind of odd. People their age usually don’t shake hands. “Who’s your uncle?”

“Owen Taylor,” Zoe says kind of uncertainly.

“Oh, I know him! I helped him set up his garden a few months ago,” Alana says. At Zoe’s puzzled look, she adds, “In the backyard.”

Zoe laughs. “Yeah, the front is kind of a mess, isn’t it? We’ve only been here like, an hour, so I didn’t really get to check out the back yet.”

“You definitely should,” Alana says seriously, nodding. “I haven’t seen it in a while, but he promised me that he’s taking good care of it. My family, we grow our own vegetables, and we even run the farmer’s market here, which is why he came to us for help. Usually my grandma’s the gardening expert, but she broke her hip last year and she’s pretty much been on bed rest ever since.”

Zoe likes the way Alana talks—painfully earnest, almost matter-of-fact at certain points. As they walk, the braids framing her face sway gently back and forth, and Zoe can’t stop fixating on it. She doesn’t think she’s ever met someone so...animated. Enthusiastic. Excited about little things like gardening.

And let’s not forget, _really cute._

Alana comes to a stop. “This is me,” she says almost apologetically. The road forks to the right, and at the end of it is a house that looks similar to Owen’s, but a lot prettier. White picket fence, beautiful porch, tire swing on the large oak tree out front. It’s picturesque.

“Cool,” Zoe says, then with a short laugh, “Uh, thanks for being so nice even though I probably, like, totally just disturbed your peaceful bike ride.”

Alana’s eyes go wide, and she places her hand on Zoe’s arm as she shakes her head frantically. “No, you really didn’t. If I’m being honest, it gets kind of boring around here, seeing the same faces all the time, so…”

Zoe grins down at the hand still resting on her arm. Alana’s nails are painted yellow, except for her pinkie nail, which is teal blue and chipped. “Well, in that case, would you wanna maybe...hang out sometime? You could show me around. Or show me the gardening ropes.”

Zoe wiggles her eyebrows at that last part. It gets a laugh out of Alana—a bright, music-to-your-ears sort of thing.

“Okay, sure! Here, I’ll give you my number. Text me whenever you’re free.”

 _That’s probably gonna be often,_ Zoe thinks to herself as she passes her phone to Alana. After that’s done, she shoots her a text saying “hey it’s zoe !!”

Alana beams at it, then glances at Zoe before replying with “:)!!!”

Zoe’s heart does somersaults behind her ribs as she starts the walk back to Owen's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while evan is a true Disaster Bi, zoe is the smoothest bi ever. met cute girl, struck up conversation with her without hesitation, obtained cute girl's number?? all within like a hour of arriving in cedarwood springs?? we love her.
> 
> I know this chapter was short but I enjoy writing this fic so far and getting to explore zoe and connor's characters (and their relationship), and I hope you guys are enjoying reading it!
> 
> also just a heads up, there probably won't end up being anything Romantic between connor and evan in future chapters after all. I have my reasons for this so please just bear with me lmao!! if that's a dealbreaker for you tho I have other deh fics on here that you can read instead (???). ok that's all, see u soon hopefully!


	4. the dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for: suicide mentions

Connor has started to make a mental list of information he's gathered about Owen over the course of the past couple of weeks. Here it is:

1) He tends to trip over his words a lot.

2) He has a piano in his room, but he doesn’t seem to know how to play it.

3) He says “surely but slowly,” instead of the other way around.

4) He’s bad at small talk with everyone but Zoe. Or maybe Zoe’s just good at talking to people. Either way, the two of them get along pretty well after that first night. (Connor doesn’t think he’s jealous, but he does feel kind of left out. One time at dinner Zoe accidentally dropped her fork and Owen laughed and said, “Wow, walk much?” and when Connor gave them both a weirded out look, Zoe said icily, “It’s an inside joke,” and Connor kind of wanted to die.)

5) He wears the same plaid flannel over the same Queen T-shirt almost every day.

6) He smells like what Connor thinks _Christmas_ smells like, as vague as that sounds. Like pine needles and peppermint and gingerbread.

7) He’s bisexual. He told Connor this after breakfast yesterday, with the kind of forced cheerfulness that meant Cynthia had probably told him he should come out to Connor so that they could bond together over their shared interest in dudes. (So far, no bonding—Connor had just nodded, pumped his fist in the air weakly and said, “Good for you!”)

8) He’s obsessed with board games, or more specifically, forcing the three of them to bond through board games. (Within a week and a half, Connor has played approximately sixteen games of Monopoly, which is sixteen times he’s had to put up with Zoe’s vague anti-capitalist commentary.)

9) He’s tried to kill himself before.

Connor is going over this mental list as he lies in bed. There isn’t much to do in Cedarwood Springs unless you enjoy hiking and other naturey shit, so he’s been spending a lot of time in his bed lately. Sometimes he helps Owen cook or bake, which, oh, is something else he can add to the list—Owen is a really good cook.

Connor thinks back on the suicide attempt thing. Technically he doesn’t know for _sure_ whether it’s true, but Owen keeps implying it, like when he offers to _talk_ and says stuff like _“I’ve been there before and I know what you’re going through.”_ Could be just another adult trying to get Connor to open up to them by telling him some bullshit about how he's not alone, but Connor likes to think he's a pretty good judge of character, and Owen's...alright. He's probably being for real. Maybe he actually did try to kill himself. Maybe it's not that extreme but he can still relate to Connor because he's had depression before or something.

Maybe _that’s_ one of the real reasons why their parents sent him and Zoe here.

“I hate this house,” Connor says, speaking up for the first time in hours. He doesn’t really _hate_ the house, but he can’t stand this silence anymore. It makes his whole body feel like he’s a rubber band being pulled and pulled and pulled back, filled with tense energy, ready to snap.

Zoe, who’s sitting at the desk across the room, quickly scrawls something in her notebook before crossing it out and writing something else. “I like it,” she says almost defensively. “There’s something kind of charming about it.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “That’s so fucking pretentious of you.”

Her hand stills on the page. “You’re an asshole.”

He groans and turns over so that his face is buried in the pillow.

Time passes. Surely but slowly.

 

-

 

Connor is out for a walk the next day—because that’s something he’s trying to start doing now, since fresh air is like, good for your health—when he runs into Evan, who’s got earphones in both ears and is holding onto a leash for dear life. The Dalmatian at the other end of said leash is dragging him along down the sidewalk, headed straight for Connor.

“Uh,” Connor gets out, right before the dog breaks into a run and the leash is yanked out of Evan’s hands, and then Connor is on the ground with thirty pounds of spotted fur on top of him, licking at his face.

“Zoe, no!” Evan kneels next to them and attempts to pull the dog away from Connor, a dismayed look on his face. Connor laughs loudly, startling himself. The dog—who’s apparently called _Zoe!—_ barks happily in response before giving him one final lick and then climbing off.

“You named your dog Zoe?” Connor asks as he sits up, something like giddiness overcoming him.

“I—that was already her name when my mom got her,” Evan says. He wraps the leash around his hand once, twice, three times, and then unwinds it.

Connor can’t help but crack up again. There are practically tears in his eyes when he recovers, and his face kind of hurts. He hasn’t laughed like this in longer than he can remember.

Evan has that confused sort of grin on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, oh my god,” Connor says, shaking his head. He scratches Dog Zoe’s behind the ears, still smiling.

“Okay,” Evan says slowly. He gets to his feet and holds out a hand, and Connor takes it, pulling himself up. They stare at each other for a moment, and then Evan laughs and says, “So! You’re still here!”

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I just mean that no one ever stays here very long, and we don’t get tourists until mid-summer, usually, so it’s just—it’s kind of funny that I ran into you again. What are—are you…I mean, um...” Evan trails off, wincing.

“My parents sent me here for the summer,” Connor supplies. “I’m staying with my uncle.” Dog Zoe is sniffing at his shoes. He had to sacrifice his favorite combat boots for a pair of Converse, because while the boots may be more true to his aesthetic, they’re not fun to walk in for a long time. Especially on Cedarwood Springs’ unpredictable terrain.

“Oh! Cool,” Evan says, then his eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, are you—you’re Owen’s nephew!”

Connor doesn’t know if he should be flattered or worried. Has Owen been going around telling everyone in town about his damaged family that’s come to visit? “Yep,” Connor says. “That’s me.”

“You have a twin sister here too, right?” Evan asks. “Where’s she?”

“Fuck if I know. Probably writing fake deep poetry in the woods somewhere.”

Evan stifles a laugh, asking politely, “She likes to write?”

“Yeah, uh.” Connor feels bad suddenly. “She’s actually really into music. I think she mostly writes songs and stuff.”

Zoe used to share that sort of thing with him, back when she first started playing guitar and he still took piano lessons. She let him read through all of her songwriting journals, and he pointed out all the parts he liked, feeling proud to have such a talented sister.

Now, she never even leaves her notebook lying around, like she’s scared he’ll steal it or tear the pages out or something. Now, he’s lucky if he gets to hear her sing—even if it’s just for a minute, before she realizes he’s there. Her voice is soft, but her lyrics are usually angry, sad. Her music is honest and strikes a chord in him, and he almost wishes it wasn’t so good because he hates that it makes him...feel something.

“That’s so cool,” Evan says. Dog Zoe starts pulling him in the opposite direction, the leash going taut, so he lets himself be led down the sidewalk again. Connor follows, trying to bottle his stupid feelings back up and bury them deep, deep down where they belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how i feel about this chapter because it's super short and slow since not a lot happens but i just wanted to uhhh post something so
> 
> comment, leave kudos, follow me on tumblr @jaredklein and thanks for reading!


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